Photo Albums
by fufulupin
Summary: A tale of simpler times in the Baudelaire household. Times that involve photo albums...ah, sweet fluff, is that you? Rated for faint angst. Vaguely movie-verse. Please read, enjoy, and review.


Disclaimer: Random, random, random. This is what comes from looking at one too many photo albums. And no, I don't own a single thing.

A/N: Takes place before the fire, obviously.

Photo Albums

"Violet!"

She stopped in her tracks at the sound of her father's uncharacteristically loud yell. "Yes, Daddy?" She didn't usually call him 'Daddy'—she was much too old for that, at age 12 and three quarters--, but it never hurt to be extra sweet.

"Take your brother and sister into the library please." Her father was rubbing his head in a mix of frustration and migraine. Violet nodded briskly, banishing from her mind thoughts of the new invention she had been planning on building. Grabbing Klaus around the wrist, she dragged him bodily from the airplane he'd been rather noisily playing with.

"Hey!" he protested, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I was—"

"Stop complaining," Violet admonished, sweeping Sunny into her other arm. She hauled both her siblings into the spacious Baudelaire library and closed the door. Klaus scowled as she released him.

"What's your hurry?" he demanded.

"Dad had a headache," she told him importantly. "He needed my help and _you_ were being obnoxious. That means—"

"I _know_ what it means," Klaus grumbled.

"Then you know that you should be reading quietly right now, to help him feel better."

Her brother rolled his eyes. "I don't feel like reading tonight, Vi."

"You _always_ feel like reading," she shot back.

"Not tonight. I just finished all the books we have on jet planes and I was having fun playing pretend." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Besides, being quiet won't make Daddy feel better. Taking aspirin will."

"Don't argue with me tonight, Klaus," she grumbled, turning her back on him and rifling through a particularly dusty shelf. He blinked, suddenly interested.

"What are you looking for?"

"A book," she replied, pushing determinedly through the mounds of novels.

"Well, _obviously_." Her brother rolled his eyes. "What _kind_ of book?"

"One that even you haven't found yet," she told him cheerfully, turning around to face him. Her arms were full of one of the biggest, dustiest books Klaus had ever seen and his eyes grew wide at the sight of it.

"Wow!" He sat up straighter on his knees and leaned forward eagerly. "What's this?"

"A special book." Violet seated herself beside her brother and motioned for him to pull Sunny into his lap. She looked quite pleased with her discovery.

"Is it about airplanes?" Klaus asked hopefully, perfectly willing to delve once again into his latest obsession. When she shook her head, he asked, "Is it about inventing things?"

"Nope," Violet answered cheerfully. Klaus tilted his head to the side, thoroughly puzzled.

"Grafta?" Sunny spoke up, waving a small hand as if to say, "Don't forget about me! Is it a book about biting things?" She gave a wide, four-toothed smile.

Violet chuckled and shook her head once again. "But you'll probably like it," she explained. "It may not have airplanes or much biting, but there are lots of pictures for Sunny and I'm sure Klaus will enjoy the background information."

Klaus' left eye gave a suspicious twitch. "Can you please stop speaking in riddles and show us what is in the book?"

Violet smiled and flipped the leather-cover open. Her siblings leaned in to look at the first page.

"Why…that's just a picture of a baby!" Klaus exclaimed, disappointed. "The library is full of books about babies!"

"Traf!" Sunny agreed, meaning, "And I _am_ a baby; I can look at a picture of a baby any time I look in a mirror!"

Violet rolled her eyes and jabbed the photograph impatiently. "It's not _just_ a baby. Look closer."

Klaus stuck his face so close to the page that his vision blurred. He removed his glasses and turned his head sideways, trying to see whatever it was that Violet was seeing. "I don't get it," he complained, straightening up and replacing his glasses.

Violet gave an irritated sigh. "The hair, Klaus! Look at the hair!"

He did and frowned. "Violet…that…baby's…"

She grinned triumphantly and nodded. He continued:

"…stolen your hair ribbon!"

The grin faded. Could her brilliant brother really be that dense? But no; as she watched, a tiny grin of his own spread over his usually-serious face.

"I'm only kidding," he assured her. "That's a very cute picture of you."

Sunny made a small noise of disbelief. "Huh?" she managed, meaning, "That was _you_, Violet?"

"Yep." She sounded very pleased with herself now. A slow smile crossed her little sister's features as Sunny recognized the meaning behind the picture.

"Wey!" she shrieked happily, meaning, "You were little like me once, Violet!"

"Exactly," Violet replied, tossing her hair back and turned the page. "And look at this."

Klaus chuckled. "I was cute, wasn't I?"

"You certainly were." His sister looked sideways at him and gave a sly grin. "What happened?"

He pulled a face and inspected the photograph of the baby boy with a mop of sandy hair and wide blue eyes. Unlike in Violet's picture, where the baby appeared to have been sleeping, Baby-Klaus was wide awake, one little fist pressed against his cheek as if in deep thought.

"I changed a lot," he said thoughtfully, one hand under his chin as he unconsciously mimicked the pose in the photograph. "My hair's much darker now…my eyes too. You can hardly tell it's me."

"Except for the nose," Violet told him. "Your nose has always been the same."

"So have your ears." The corner of his lips twitched in a quirky little smile.

Sunny made an indignant noise at being left out of this fun and Violet ruffled her little sister's hair. "Don't worry," she assured the infant, "there are some of you in here as well. Look, here's _your_ hospital picture."

The child bent over the page and gave a tiny gratified grunt. This picture was not nearly as different-looking as her siblings', but Sunny didn't mind. She could spot the small differences between the photo and the face she saw in the mirror; for instance, she could see in the picture that her four teeth were only two and they did not appear to be nearly as sharp as she knew they were now. To test this fact, she lightly brushed her tongue against one of the points and nodded to herself. Violet laughed quietly and flipped the page.

"Well, well, Klaus," she chortled. "What do we have here?"

He looked and laughed. "Mom must've run out of hats that day."

In this picture, Klaus seemed to be about two years of age. He was wearing a tee shirt with a large picture of a bear on it and a diaper, but his pants were on his head, the legs hanging on either side of his skull like long puppy ears. Baby-Klaus was grinning madly and obviously headed for the camera person on two very unsteady-looking legs.

Sunny giggled; she had never seen her older brother like that. A light blush lit his cheeks and he reached out to very quickly turn the page.

"Ah ha!" he said triumphantly. "What do you have to say to that, Violet?"

She grinned down at the page. "I'd have to say that that is an adorable picture of you."

Horrified, he stared at the picture to see himself sitting on the living room sofa with pigtails in his hair and a suspiciously-frilly shirt on. "What…what…"

"I think Auntie Tes came to visit that day," Violet gasped out between giggles. "She was always trying to get you in touch with your feminine side before you had a chance to turn into what she called a horrid rough-houser."

"And why don't I remember this Auntie Tes?" Klaus demanded.

"She died when you were four," Violet remembered, growing considerably more sober. "Car accident, I think. Dad was devastated; she was his aunt, really."

"Oh…" No longer in the mood to laugh over pictures, Klaus leaned back against one of the large plush chairs and sighed. Sunny gently bit his hand to comfort him and he gave a faint smile.

Violet watched him carefully, eyes hooded and intense. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break the happy mood," he apologized, tousling his hair and sighing again. "It's just…talk of death is…morbid."

"Isn't it always?" Violet asked, trying to make light of the conversation. Her brother shrugged moodily. Sunny bit him again, a little bit harder this time to let him know that she did not think this topic was appropriate for her young ears.

"Sorry," Klaus said again. "I know that babies shouldn't hear about death. I'll stop."

Sunny bit him yet again, satisfied, and they turned back to the photo album. This time, they didn't laugh; instead, they inspected the pictures in silence. Pictures of Sunny, just after being brought home from the hospital (Klaus remembered that time very well, as he hadn't much liked his little sister or the attention she was reaping), photos of Violet sitting on the living room floor, inventing small things with a pile of Tinker Toys, images of little Klaus sprawled in chairs, at desks, outside; anywhere and everywhere he could bring a book.

"Look at this one," Violet instructed softly, pointing at a picture. In this one, the two elder Baudelaires were squatting on the grass of their backyard, inspecting the various insects that lived just outside their home. Klaus was wearing a safari hat; Violet had a magnifying glass in her hands. Sunny muttered something about how she wasn't in the picture, how unfair.

"You weren't _born_ yet, Sun," Klaus told her, somewhat witheringly. She rolled her eyes.

"Dah," she announced, clumsily turning the page and grinning happily. Her siblings smiled down at her.

"You're right," Violet said. "That _is_ the best picture."

Their parents beamed up at them. Their father had an arm around Violet, who was leaning her head against Klaus'. Their mother was hugging Klaus, who was wearing a helmet with a lamp mounted on it; a reading hat that Violet had made for his tenth birthday. Sunny was seated on her father's shoulders, gripping his thinning hair with tiny hands and grinning widely enough to show all four of her teeth.

As the three Baudelaires stared down at this picture, they felt very secure. It didn't matter that life, so simple and carefree, would only get difficult and unfortunate. It didn't matter that Violet's inventions would one day be needed to save the lives of her and her siblings, or that Klaus' researching skills would become a desperate necessity, or that Sunny's four sharp teeth would rescue the children time and time again. All that mattered was that life was, for the moment, simple. Carefree. And the Baudelaire children were happy.

A/N: Wow, cheesy ending to end a massively cheesy story. I like it, though. I'm thinking of maybe doing an unrelated HP story that goes along the same general plotline…not sure yet. By the by, I've finished The Hostile Hospital—I'm almost done!


End file.
